Poems on Heartbreak - Blackout Poetry Notes

Casualness

That Machiavellian casualness,
that tragic joy
it would be
my security
and my misery.

Are bars the prescription
for laughter and tears?
Or glory and disgust?

I didn't want him
to kiss me.
I don't love him.
I never did.
I deluded myself,
made him into a new man -
not a human, fallible being.

Her smell in my bed
the night before
was the
beginning
of my jealousy.

A grim night in
my own prison, so much
time shut up
in the horror of a
nightmare as I feel powerless.

Intoxicated by intimacy,
he swore he loved her.

My greatest trouble in
any relationship
is I can forget
to be happy.

My poetry,
my best writing,
is the produce of loneliness in me.

Without a word, 
the truth was in your eyes,
and there was nothing
I could say.

Writing poetry is a compulsion
because I have
lost love.